


Apartment Arrival

by starv0yager



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pining Fox Mulder, Post-Episode: s06e04-05 Dreamland, Wishful Thinking, here's a fun game: spot the monk reference, im not kidding I wrote this when i was 15, mulder has a bruh moment, mulder needs a break, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 08:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19866580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starv0yager/pseuds/starv0yager





	Apartment Arrival

Mulder sighed, fumbling for his apartment key. It had been a long trip back to D.C. after being kicked out of Area 51. Now that he thought about it, something had felt a little odd. When that weird aircraft had passed over him, Scully, and the government agents, a strange feeling of deja vu washed over him, like he had experienced it all before.

The lock finally gave way with a satisfying  _ click _ , and he was finally back in his own place. He stepped in, thinking about a refreshing showe-  _ what the bleep? _

Mulder was no stranger to chaos in his apartment. Quite a number of people had been bludgeoned, shot, maimed, drugged, and murdered within his humble abode due to his line of work. Shady government searches left his personal effects strewn all over the floor, and the fact that he was a unkempt person in general didn’t help. In all his years of living here, the place had hadn’t looked more than halfway decent- until now _. _

The first thing Mulder saw was the _shine._ Any hardwood furniture he owned was dull or stained from years of misuse. He was pretty sure that even bleach, A.K.A. _el dios blanco,_ couldn’t bring the decor back to its glory days, but it had happened anyway. It was like someone had surgically removed everything ugly about his apartment, carefully scrubbing away the imperfections. An urgent thought came to Mulder’s mind.

_ Is this even my apartment!? _

He checked the door number. Surprisingly, it was still 42. 

_ Even though the X-Files were all burned down, I’m positive there was never one about “unexpected re-decoration”... _

Mulder toured his newly refurbished apartment in awe. It was sparkly clean- too clean, for his tastes. Whoever had done this watched too many furniture commercials.

_ Where’s all my stuff!? At least my fish are still alive…  _

Mulder was surprised to find that instead of his “junk room”, where he kept old furniture, broken computers, and… private reading material, there was a well-decorated bedroom, complete with full furnishing. Why was there a mirror on the ceiling? And a bottle of expensive-looking wine on the dresser? The bed was neatly made, but it was rumpled, like someone had been laying on it. He slowly sat down on it, but almost fell off. The swish of liquid inside the mattress set off more alarm bells in his head.

_ Great, another headache I have to deal with. Might as well get used to it. _

A wave of unease washed over Mulder. Whoever was here before had gone through all his things. What had they seen? Had the computer been tampered with? What things had the intruder seen? A darker thought- would this intruder come back? He made sure the front door and windows were locked tight, just to feel secure- a feeling which always seemed to elude him. Maybe, one day, when all the craziness was over, when there weren’t any more viruses or aliens or conspiracies or missing sisters- he could settle down with Scully and…

_...ain’t gonna happen. Forget it. _

Fox had stopped trying to fight it. After he’d almost lost her in that icy hellhole, he was done with pushing away what he felt, even if nothing would ever come of it. Scully was his friend, and at some points, the only person he could trust. But she was a  _ professional _ . She would put her job before Fox’s feelings, he was sure of it.

_ But still… _

He eyed the wine bottle on the dresser top, making a mental note to save it for later use.


End file.
